


like ballet

by writers_blocc



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, F/M, Wrestling, and i've been watching a ton of ZSJ, because i'm a fan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7860193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writers_blocc/pseuds/writers_blocc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kissing’s -- kissing, no big deal,” Iris moderates, stating it as more fact than fiction. “Okay then ..” Linda says, evil smirk already taking precedence and Iris knows she’s goaded herself into serious trouble. “I dare you to kiss that guy over there.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. b train

**Author's Note:**

> As an avid wrestling fan .. I've been watching a lot of squared circle action lately; in particular [Zack Sabre Jr.](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/b0/88/1a/b0881a4afc8fa0600f0e02fb0253c854.jpg) matches and since he and Grant kind of resemble each other (squint and you'll see) I came up with this. So let's pretend on E-45 Barry is a professional wrestler.

“Well, that party sucked.”

Iris doesn’t argue, bracing herself against the metal stanchion as the train sets to take off towards midtown.

“ **..** for once I would just like to go to a party that doesn’t involve glow sticks and people tripping on LSD where I’m being groped **..** ” Linda gags, reliving the eager girl persistent on dancing with her. “Just once, I would like to be invited to a mature adult affair.”

Iris chuckles, unashamed, even as Linda throws her a look, “ -- what, oh come on Linda, we’re only 26, it wasn’t that bad.”

“That --,” Linda pushes up on her seat, not standing fully because _someone_ insisted six-inch heels would go great with this outfit (and they do) but that was before mist, bubbles, glow sticks and a two-mile hike to the nearest subway station. “Are you serious?”

Caught out, Iris shrugs. The party was pretty lame; admittedly over the whole scene since college but it was one night wasted, and not even a whole one since Linda called it quits after an hour. “It wasn’t all bad, I saw you and Tony in the corner.”

Linda sticks her tongue out, not the least bit concerned with how immature she looks, “don’t remind me.” She drawls shaking her head, stupidly letting her ex talk her into a quick make out session turned the night from unbearable to worse. “I do dumb things -- why do you let me do dumb things?”

“Hey, who you deem worthy of your lips, is your business.”

Linda tsk. It wasn’t all bad kissing Tony. Actually, it was one of his few redeeming qualities among his many douche-bag like tendencies. The torrid part was the expectation of going back to her place. Like, ew, no. She grits her teeth, tapping her foot irritably because okay, it’s been a while but, no -- no. Definitely not worth the headache.

“ **..** just because I don’t go around kissing --”

“Hey,” and Iris has to cut her off right there because she knows where this is going. “Stop.”

“I’m just saying.” the sports reporter sing songs.

“It’s not a big deal,” really it’s not. So Iris liked kissing, so what. It didn’t mean anything. “Kissing’s -- kissing,” she states so matter of factly and unapologetically, sticking to her guns that it was a hobby -- something she enjoyed doing with her significant other when time allowed and  _sometimes_ with people she had no intention of seeing again. It was fun, good harmless fun. Linda could learn a thing or two.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“One of a kind,” Iris taps the toe of her boot against the toe of Lindas’ leaving the conversation at a pause as the doors slide open at the next stop, addressing the presence of a new passenger.

“One of these days you’re going to meet your match and you won't want to kiss anyone else.” The train pushes to a start. Iris roots down, catching her balance as she shifts forward and grips her hands tighter to the pole.

Iris isn’t opposed to love. She was sure it existed, might have even experienced it once **..** and for all intents and purposes wished those well who lived in it but the idea of being saddled down with one man for the rest of her life -- her stomach lurched at the thought.

“Eh **..** ” she tilts her hand in the air, bobbing her fingers as if to say _probably not_.

“Next stop 42nd and west.”

“I’m telling you,” Linda smugly, all too knowingly said like the answers of the universe were held in her Neiman Marcus clutch.

Sticking her tongue out, Iris laughed, annoyed just a bit that they were back to this. It seemed like they always came back to her love life and its’ lack of existence since Eddie. Eddie was two years ago.  In the past, where he belonged.

“It’s gonna happen,” dark eyes scaled the bright train, besides them only two other people occupied the cabin. A guy sitting rows ahead and an older woman with a dozen bags at her disposal across the aisle.  “Maybe even tonight **..** ” Iris doesn’t like the way that sounds, clearly seeing an idea form behind glinted irises, masked in mischief.

“No.”

“Oh, come on I dare you.” Linda lifts a finger in the direction of the man’s unsuspecting back. “Besides aren't you the one always saying it’s just _kissing,_ no harm, no foul.”

“It is.”

“Well then, what’s your hold up?”

Oh, she could name a few: one) she generally like to be attracted to the person she locked lips with two) who’s to say this guy wasn’t a creep or a drunk or a weirdo -- literally Central City was full of them, the list was pretty endless and three) people she kissed were hand picked by her, not Linda’s willingness to prove a point, a point by the way, that had a 0% chance at success.

“ **..** I’ll buy you coffee for the rest of the week, anytime you're little over-caffeinated heart desires **..** ”

A perfectly manicured brow rose, cocking in intrigue, “ **..** keep talking.”

“As much as you want.”

Iris shifts her weight, twisting her lips in thought, “ **..** anytime?”

“Iris Ann West if you call me at 4 in the morning demanding coffee I’ll murder you -- but yes, between the hours of 8 am to midnight, all the coffee you can handle.”

“The good stuff, gas station coffee or that sludge in the break room don’t count.”

“Deal.” they shake on it, and Iris stands up straight, squaring her shoulders back and lifts the cups of her bra. When all systems are go she makes her move to Linda’s _go get ‘em, girl_.

“Hi.” she starts on arrival, relieved to find that her train companion for the evening isn’t ugly at all. In fact, he’s kinda cute especially with his glasses. If he had a lightening bolt scar, he’d look like a lankier - taller version of Harry Potter. “Mind if I sit?”

He pushes his frames up the bridge of his nose and turns to the empty train and it’s vacant seats, “um **..** ” for a minute she thinks he’s going to brush her away but after a brief shrug accompanied by an overly confused “okay,” he moves his bag to the floor, pushing it under his feet.

“Thank you, I’m Iris by the way.”

“ **..** Barry **..** ”

“It’s nice to meet you, Barry.”

“ **..** same?” green eyes, flummoxed and dark disclose more than the words leaving his mouth and Iris eases a bit, so **..** maybe not a creep? 

The train slows under them stopping with another announcement from the conductor, “42nd and west next stop 46th street.” They take off again and Barry folds his hands in his lap, watching the station outside disappear and Iris turns back to Linda who shoos her on.

“So,” she says when the scenery of graffiti and lights are replaced by the tunnel. “You want to play a game?”

“A game?”

“Yeah,” she turns, folding her leg in to face him fully. “I’ll tell you one fact about me and you can tell me one about yourself, yeah?” frozen he doesn’t say anything but the slight inclination of his brow is enough confirmation for her so she starts, “I’ll go first.”

“ **..** okay **..** ”

She taps a freshly painted nail to her chin, considering what aimless thing to share and goes with the first thing that comes to mind. “I sucked my thumb until I was seven.”

“Nasty habit,” he comments after a few minutes, smile a bit tight before taking a deep breath and throwing out, “I’ve seen Deadpool in theaters three times.”

“It was a great movie.” He seems almost taken aback, turning now to face her and Iris isn’t sure if it’s because she’s agreeing or that she has knowledge of who or what a Deadpool is. Some guys, scratch that, most guys say that she doesn’t look the type? Whatever that means.

“I’m a journalist."

“That’s cool. Um, okay -- uh, I can lick my elbow.”

“No, you can’t” flies outta her mouth before she can contain it and he must take it as a challenge because he lifts his arm, twist his forearm back and licks the point of his elbow. “Sonofabitch.”

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t bet any money on that? I made 100 bucks off this kid in college one time.”

“You did not.”

Barry ducks his head, smile growing as he lifts it, “so he owes me **..** ” he laughs, “I didn’t have the heart, college is crazy expensive as is.”

“He probably used it on weed.”

“Probably.” she laughs with him this time.

“Hmm **..** my zodiac sign is cancer.”

“Jul-yyyyyy **..**?”

“June 24th.”

He nods, biting his lip before letting loose another maddening bright smile full of white teeth that any Colgate commercial would be proud of. “I’ve broken every bone in my right hand before.” he lifts his hand to show off his wide palm, lined with long fingers and clean nails, waggling them to show off their crookedness. Iris hisses, only imagining the severe pain that must have caused. “Tell me about it. Hurt like hell but at least it wasn’t my dominant hand.”

Now that he’s warmed up to her a bit, she figures now is as good a time as any to go in for the kill. “I’m a really good kisser.” She swears he looks like a sinner in church, it’s almost comical the way sweat pops around his hairline and how his mouth drops when she scoots closer casually laying her arm over the hard plastic seat, right at his back so that she can press into him. “Would you like to test out that theory?”

Normally, usually, guys are all over the opportunity but Barry gives pause, locking eyes with her and maybe she judged wrong but there’s coffee at stake so she leans closer and whispers against the outline of his ear, “don’t look but my friend dared me to come over here and kiss you.” His ears perk, burning red and he looks over his shoulder to find another girl with dark hair drawn tight in a bun watching them, “what the heck, I said don’t look.”

Barry straightens, neck hot and jokes, “sorry. I just wanted to see who we were putting on a show for.” He rubs his hands against the pad of his jeans assessing Iris again, “okay -- so is there like a time limit for how long or **..**?”

“Are you always this awkward?” slash cute slash adorable?

“Pretty much, yeah.” he’s totally checking off on all her boxes, Linda couldn’t have hand picked a better person for her if Iris picked them herself and when he runs his tongue over his full bottom lip, green eyes amused as if he knows what he’s doing -- the _devil_ \-- Iris squints, locking his gaze with one of her own. Two could play this game. Reaching up, she pushes the brim of the hat she wore out tonight back, careful not to cock him in the eye with it and leans in. Up close like this, she can smell the scent of his detergent mixed nicely with his cologne and really  _where had he come from_? because his lips are soft and his tongue taste as good as the rest of him smells. And when he cups those large hands of his to her jaw gently drawing her closer, she’s complete putty in this man’s hands.

“46th street.” wakes her, eyes opening to reveal Barry’s fogged glasses resting above the most ridiculous, lopsided grin she's ever seen plastered on anyone's face. “46th and west approaching, next stop 50th.”

“T -- this is me **..** ” she mumbles. Iris never mumbles but here she is acting like a virgin on her first day of summer camp.

“Okay, well it was nice to meet you Iris.” he licks his bottom lip again and Iris follows it until he hides it away.

“Y -- you too.”

“Iris,” Linda calls from a distance, “c’mon this is our stop.”

“Yeah **..** Yeah. Bye Barry.”

He waves, tipping his hand to the side as he follows her trek to the doors. He tilts his head in Linda’s direction and offers her one as well.

“So?” Linda asks, tugging the lapels of her jacket closer, and waits for Iris’ appraisal all the way up to the street level. “How was it?”

“It was good,” _really good_ “but like I told you Linda, kissing’s just kissing.”


	2. e train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "wrestling is ballet with violence," Jesse _The Body_ Ventura

“Isn’t that your boyfriend?”

Iris yanks back, stride paused to find Linda parked in front of the community board. “Boy -- what, Linda what are you talking about?”

“This is him .. that’s totally him.” Linda dabs the pink flyer, right over his face. "Look," so Iris does and it's not so much the words of:

 **TOP FORCE WRESTLING**  
_Presents_  
**WAR of WORLDS**  
featuring:  
**"The Incomparable" Barry Allen**  
**vs.**  
**"The Nastiest Player in the Game" Cisco Roman**  
**for the World Heavyweight Championship.**

that stumps her, but the printed photo of Barry.

“.. he’s a wrestler?”

“ .. a wrestler..”

“You kissed a wrestler?”

Iris throws her hands up, stalling in defense. “You picked him!” finally lands exasperated, almost exhausted like she's been pulling at strings as to why and with who.

“It’s tonight.” Linda snatches the flyer from the board and shoves it in Iris’ face. “Oh my god, we have to go.”

"No," oh, no. A thousand times no. "Linda.."

"Are you honestly going to stand here and act like you're not the least bit curious?"

"Yes," because as much as Linda liked to think Iris found her soul mate on the b-train that night, Iris knows better. Was he cute, funny, borderline adorable in all his confusion and a good kisser? -- yes. She has no shame whatsoever in admitting that but actively seeking him out was pushing some kind of limit.

"Liar." Linda sucks her teeth, "we both know you're interested."

“ .. in this?” Iris makes a face, a little sour at the idea. The last time she was remotely aware of the world of professional wrestling Wally was nine and obsessed with The Rock. They've all moved on since.

“No, him Iris. In him.” Linda deadpans, holding up the flyer for Iris to see as they make their way outside of Jitters. "We're going to see him."

"I just love how you're constantly volunteering my time against my will."

Iris starts a mental list on the way back to CCPN, much to Linda's dismay, she really did have a crapton of stuff to do; starting with her laundry and ending with the final episode of The Get Down.

"Starts at 10," Linda prompts like it makes all the difference in the world. It doesn't. "It'll be fun."

Iris stops outside the office pretending to actually consider the idea -- but everyone knows she can be petty as fuck sometimes -- so it should come as no surprise just as Linda's eyes fill with hope Iris turns with a careless shrug, "nah, I'm good."

Linda groans from behind her. She groans again an hour later and again when Iris IMs her for a coffee refill, although she's pretty sure it's because she has to run another errand on top of the pile of work Mason already has her doing. Eventually, she's reduced to just pleading, "please can we go, please."

Honestly, who knew she was such a fan? "Why--" Iris drags, stopping under the double door threshold, tired and ready to head home after a long days work. "-- is it so important that I go?" because really, Linda hasn't been this insufferable since college when she had to attend a music festival across the country because of some boy. "Linda?"

"What?"

"Don't what me."

Linda slumps, perching a hand under her chin. "..nothing -- it's nothing.." It's definitely, most certainly something but Iris doesn't have time for this. She has a hot shower and her father's leftovers waiting for her.

"Good night, Linda. Text me when you get home."

"Mhmm."

The walk to the subway station is ten minutes and the wait for it is less but it's crowded as shit -- as expected-- with everyone trying to make it back home after an eight to nine hour work day. "This is why you need a car," her father/brother/best friend constantly remind her, forget the fact that she saves more money than all three combined. Excusing herself, she lucks out and spots one empty seat in the back.

"Are you kidding me?" startles a teenage boy beside her but really, he has no fucking clue the aggravation she's suddenly experiencing because what the hell -- were Linda and god in cahoots?

The first thing she notices is the swell and split in the corner of his lip. Iris takes a pretty good guess how it got there but asks anyway. "What happened?"

He looks up, recognizes her and smiles as best he can. ".. I got punched in the face."

"Oh."

A brow lifts, "..oh?" he shifts his weight in the seat, sinking down, "oh -- okay.." he chances a look at her, green eyes searching for answers in questions unasked while the train rocks beneath them. "You um, want to sit?" He motions to the empty space and for a while, the only noise comes from passengers and stop announcements.

".. so, where's your friend?" breaks along Iris', "how'd you get into wrestling?"

She counts the flutter of his lashes, batting above high cheekbones while she waits for his thoughts to verbalize. He turns, folds his arms and stares until he decides, "you're not going to believe me."

Iris smirks, mirroring his folded arms, brave under steady gaze searching for a crack or tale. "Try me."

"Okay .. okay, um, my grandmother."

Iris bites her lip, nods and looks forward. His right eye twitches.

"That's it." He's not going for shock value or anything but her lack of surprise is a little off putting. Not that he's seeking attention. "Nothing else?"

"Nope."

Barry hums, floored by this woman he's only encountered twice now, each time leaving a lasting impression. ".. okay."

"Ladies and gentleman we are approaching stop 104 Kingsmen. 104 Kingsmen."

"That night .. did you know?" it bothers him to ask but he's had a few run-ins with fans who don't always have the best intentions. ".. about me -- who I was?"

"No," he expects more short responses but she continues, "Linda and I were at Jitters today when we saw the flyer."

Barry briefly recalls the street team mentioning the ground they covered in order to promote tonight's event during his workout yesterday. Jax in particular, wouldn't shut up about a cute barista he met by the name of Kendra who made perfect cappuccinos and how he declared to never buy another one unless it came from the Jitters uptown. Somewhere he makes the connection between cappuccino's to coffee and thinks of her, mid deadlift and wonders what the girl from the train was up to.

".. and so I spent the day warding her off." He has a feeling he knows why but let's her explain. "Not that I'm hiding from you or anything.." he makes a face, not fully convinced. "I'm not." Barry doesn't push, guilty because he's enjoying how flustered she's becoming around him. "I just think it's weird to randomly seek out a person after one random, dare inspired kiss, don't you?"

"How many people have you kissed because of a dare," he really wants to know .. for science purposes .. "anyone since that night?" _anyone since me_ is the question he really wants answered but holds off. Her response doesn't come right away, he doesn't expect it to but he'd be lying if he wasn't relieved when she shakes her head. "me either."

If the news appeases her, she doesn't let on and Barry is left with the noise of the train and its' riders to occupy him. He's okay with quiet. He can do quiet. He likes the quiet. He and quiet go hand in hand because while he lives a lifestyle dissimilar to the average Joe, in the solace of quiet he can slow down and appreciate the tiny success he garners each time he steps in the ring -- but now --now he really just wants to know what makes Iris tick.

"That game we played, from the night before, it didn't have distinct rules, did it?" the train rocks with speed and their shoulders bump as he presses on, "because I have an idea.."

"Does it involve us kissing again?"

Barry doesn't miss her glance shifting from his eyes to his lips and back -- well, almost because he's doing the exact same thing.

"Depends, lady's choice."

If she could blush, she would. "Rules?"

"There are no rules," he smiles, full of moxie and tenacity, "go ahead, ask me anything."

"Anything?"

He shrugs, holding up both palms as if to confirm: _anything_.

So she tests the waters, "how tall are you?"

"6'2, is that all you've got? I'm giving you free access here, internet trolls would kill to be in your position right now."

Iris sucks her teeth, turning in what little space the sectional provides. "okay, tell me the one secret you keep to yourself."

".. I've got a crush on this girl -- a serious crush.." he catches her eye at the same time she calls bullshit, "it's the truth."

"You know that's not what I meant."

He wags a finger, tsk-ing, "you said that I keep to myself. I haven't told anyone about you." Not even Cisco, who he tells everything, knows. "Favorite ice cream?"

"I'm supposed to be asking the questions."

"This is a two-way street, I only let you get a do-over because your first question was lame."

Her cheeks puff in laughter, choosing to ignore his accusation, "so you have a crush on me..?"

The entire side of his neck colors red, caught out. "Don't change the subject."

"I'm not changing anything."

"Favorite flavor ice cream," he asks again.

"Mint chocolate chip."

"Ladies and gentlemen we are approaching the cross-town intersection, next top is 115 N. Heights. 115 N. Heights."

"This is my stop," he informs her regrettably, wishing he had an extra mile to go. "You should come, tonight, I mean. It'll be a good show." Iris stands, pushing against the bar, overly aware of his closeness and his smell and his height -- _jesus, mary and joseph give her strength_ \-- as he rests his hand above her to keep balance as the train starts to slow. "So, will I see you tonight?"

The train jerks and he's closer now, green eyes brighter under the lens of his glasses and, "y--yes," whispers, breathless before she can think about changing her mind.

"Cool," he licks his lips after the word, slowly dragging it across his bottom lip, capturing her full attention, never mind the cut and it's bruising because all Iris can think about is potentially kissing him better.

The train stops, and people rush to the exit and now he's flush against her, chest to chest -- she's probably going to faint -- she's definitely edging towards collapsing when his thumb brushes against her hand, "and maybe after .. I can take you out for ice cream?"


	3. a train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "everything I do is to become better, the best ever and I'm not going to stop," Dolph Ziggler

"And your n _eee_ w Heavyweight Champion of the W _ooo_ rld, Barry All _eee_ n!" 

The crowd, already on their feet, cheers loudly as the referee raises Barry's hand in victory. Streamers fly, one after the other until he and the entire ring are covered in a mix of red and yellow followed by "you deserve it" chants. Iris waits in the wings, rattled by the intensity of the match and its' aftermath. The closer he draws to the top of the ramp, rising the title above his head the louder the room gets, it's almost deafening. "You deserve it," _clap_ , _clap_ , _clap_ , _clap_ , _clap_ , _clap_ "you deserve it!" 

Barry steps through the curtain and is greeted by peers, promoters and stage hands rushing to congratulate him on his first big title run in the company. He thanks them accordingly but only has eyes for her standing in the corner. Eventually, he breaks away.  

"Hi."

"He kicked you in the face, why did you let him kick you in the face?" Iris tags his arm, almost instantly her eyes pop in worry, "sorry -- you're okay, though, right -- I'm sorry, I thought he knocked your teeth out."

Barry grins, displaying full rows of pearly whites for her inspection, smiling wider when he sees her visibly ease. "I'm okay, Iris."

"I thought you were unconscious." 

He likes her like this, cautious about his well-being. "I'm fine, really." taking her hand, he squeezes lightly vowing without so many words that everything was all right: pain is a secondary factor, one he's been living with for ten years. "Really," he feels the need to reassure, timid now under watchful brown eyes. 

"Yo Allen, celebratory drinks on me!" breaks the spell Iris has him under just in time for Cisco's arrival. "I'm really proud of you man, I'm so happy for you," even though he dropped the title tonight, there was no one more deserving of the opportunity than Barry. Honestly, Cisco was honored to play a part. "So where are we going? I'm thinking Rosies, they've got 99. cent pitchers. Whoa -- who's this?"

"Oh, um, this is Iris, Iris this is my friend Cisco."

The tape on Cisco's hand and wrist are peeled from grime and sweat but he offers it proudly all the same, "nice to meet you."

"Same."

"She comin' with?"

"Actually," Barry intervenes, "raincheck?" 

One corner of Cisco's lips rises, nodding, he slaps Barry's shoulder telling him to  _have fun_  and no -- no he's got the wrong idea but he's halfway across the room before Barry has a chance to correct him. Maybe she won't notice -- maybe she will, either way, he turns with an apology, " **..** sorry."

"No worries." 

Barry hefts the belt on his bare shoulder, wincing slightly at its' stiffness and nods reluctantly. He'll correct Cisco when he gets to the locker room. 

"I should go change," not that Iris is complaining because who would've guessed: there's actually a body under the layers of button ups and sweaters. "Don't go anywhere."

"I won't," when he disappears through the crowd of people backstage, she sighs.Linda is going to have a field day with this. The thought actually forces Iris to prepare a bounty of clever misdirections to keep her best friend at bay. She has at least five valuable good ones at her dispense when he reappears at her side, freshly showered and clothed in jeans, a jacket, and t-shirt that reads 'Allen & Ramon & Queen'.

"Nice shirt."

"Thanks," he pinches the black collar, peering down at the names and lifts his head with a smile, "it's new merch, we just started distributing it the other day."

"By we you mean..?

"Cisco, Oliver and I."

Barry straps his duffle bag over one arm and offers the other, pulling her close when she loops hers through his. "I don't get that, didn't you just face that Cisco guy? **..** and Oliver **..** " if she remembers correctly was booed out of the building, "they're supposed to be bad guys, right? yet, you have merchandise with their names on it, and you're friends--"

"The best of friends."

" **..** but you're a good guy. Shouldn't you, I dunno, be mortal enemies behind the scenes, at least for story sake?"  

"Can I just say, it's so cool that you're already trying to figure out schematics?" 

"I'mma reporter. I have questions."

Barry keeps his laughter to himself, covering it by bringing the back of her hand to his lips. "okay, well, the first thing you need to know is that kayfabe is dead. It died a long time ago with the rise of YouTube and Twitter, second, Cisco has been my friend since we were in diapers, Oliver came along sometime in high school but there's no way I could picture my life without 'em  **..** they just happen to play kick ass villains better than I can."  

"I feel like there's a story here."

" **..** maybe  **..** "

His diffidence leads them out the bingo hall and to the customer parking lot where a crowd has surfaced. A long time ago, Barry learned to keep his head down and stray from crowds if he ever had any hopes of escaping early after a show. "Sorry I have to rush you like this," he says, getting them around the corner of the building. Truth is, he wants to spend as much uninterrupted time with her as possible.

They walk in silence for a while, leaving the building distant with each block they cover.  

"It suddenly occurs to me that  _probably_ most -- maybe all ice cream shops are closed for the night."

"You just thought of that, huh?"

Considering it's well passed midnight, "yeah  _but_ I've got a backup plan." 

The backup plan is a 24-hour convenience store where he purchases a pint of mint chocolate chip and two spoons. "Where there's will, there's a-way." they clink silverware together and park outside on the curb under a street light.

"I'm going to be cheesy, now -- fair warning," his laughter spurs her own, "tell me about yourself. That's what you're supposed to ask on the first date, right?" 

"Who says this is a date?"

Iris turns to him, crossing her legs at the ankles into the street, eyeing him behind the shield of her spoon. She's right. He assumed and was making an ass out of himself. Barry winced, covering half of his face with his free hand.

" **..** ah, Iris, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, next time just ask.." Iris says, dipping her spoon and daring him to argue. He won't. He values her directness and takes note. 

"It'd be a pretty lousy date anyway," he motions to the frozen dessert emphasizing its' lack of allure, "I haven't exactly shown you my best moves."

"Oh, you got moves?"

Barry gestures over his entirety as if to call out the obvious. " **..** so many, _many_ moves. It's pretty ridiculous actually."  

They laugh together. His boisterous and steady while hers is like the sun, refreshing and full of possibility.

"Why do you do it?" 

Barry scraps a corner of the ice cream, taking a bite before responding. It's a common question asked multiple times throughout his career that he's categorized a normal generic "it's my passion" response but he looks at her immersed in this fraction of time under a flickering street lamp, plastic cutlery, sugar and speaks openly.

"Wrestling is my high."

They call him great. Barry believes he could do better and become the best ever. Wrestling is so much more, the passion he had for it stirred the pot at seven and grew to become something else entirely. It was breathing and he couldn't live without it. 

"I get it."

"You do?"

Iris nods, dipping her spoon and licking any trace of ice cream away, "I unveil Central City big bads for a living. I'm talking the worse of the worst, ranging from dirty politicians to crime lords and everything in between. All in an effort to bring justice to those who deserve it. A far stretch from what you put your body through but that high I get, chasing down a lead **..** it's an adrenaline rush." 

"You're seriously amazing, Iris." 

Iris snorts, "My father would argue with you on that. He isn't exactly a fan of his daughter putting herself in danger on a regular basis, luckily my mom is there to play mediator when my father and I are at each other's throat." 

"She sounds invaluable."

Iris broaches the countless debates she's had -- _is still having_ \-- that could've turned south if it hadn't been for her mother, the peacemaker and nods keenly. "That's a good one. I'll have to tell her that one day, maybe in a mother's day card?" 

"Do with it as you please."

Iris takes another spoon full and savors the cool taste of mint, comfortable with the background noise the sleeping city has to provide. "Here," Barry says after a while, offering her what's left in the carton.

"What's your favorite song?" He asks when she finishes.  

"I don't have a favorite song."

"You don't like music?"

"I didn't say that," Iris takes the hand he extends, helping her up. "I just don't have a favorite song  **..** why, are you trying to ask me out on another date that's not a date?"

Barry scratches his nape, "am I that obvious?" Iris holds her index finger away from her thumb by an inch and Barry drops his head back with a laugh. She waits for him to settle and reaches up to trace the cut on his lip and down to the bruise forming on his jaw. He's still handsome beneath the scars, just dormant. "So, all of this, it's worth it?"

There are other things, he supposes. " **..** for now."      

The pad of her thumb crosses light stubble before she pulls away. "It's getting late." 

There's a subway station a few blocks ahead. It's empty and quiet, save for the lingering sounds of trains rushing through the tunnels. She's on the a-train and Barry is across the platform, on the e headed downtown.

The night Iris kissed him for the first time she tasted like berries. Now, she's chocolate and mint, warm against the wind hitting his back. Barry takes her in, savoring every sigh past her lips and tug she pulls at his shirt. He holds her close, dizzy by her scent and lost to the touch of her tongue tracing his lips.   

A rush of wind and steel scraping against the tracks breaks them apart, leaving a line of spittal in the crosshairs until she licks it away.

"This is me."  

He feels every word paint against his lips, averse to let her go. "I had fun tonight, thank you."

Iris plants a chaste kiss to his chin, smiling as she does so and backs away. He watches her step under the threshold of the train and wishes he had more time. That's becoming a thing --  wanting more time. Above an announcement is made, warning people to step back from the edge as they are set to take off. 

"Wait," he calls before the doors close. "What's your name? You know I'm Barry Allen. What about you? Who are you, Iris?"

Her smile is coy by way of his stare, a universe of green, blue and gray highlighted by frames reflecting under fluorescent light bulbs, trapping her to this single moment. A drunk is singing horribly off key rows ahead, a group of friends loud conversation clammers in the aisle and it smells exactly how you'd expect after a long day and several hundred passengers. 

Still, she finds herself tucking a curl behind her ear, almost shyly. "Iris West of CCPN, you?"

"Barry Allen, professional wrestler. It's very nice to meet you Iris West, officially."  

The doors slide close, disrupting their full view to just the square window of their upper halves, giving him enough time to wave before he disappears, replaced by dark tunnels. "32nd and is our next stop, headed for midtown, last stop 50th. All rides will resume 6am sharp." 

Her key twists the lock of her apartment door open with five hours until her alarm clock is set to go off. Thirty minutes of that is spent trying to wipe the smile off her face, less time is used to think of an excuse and the rest is spent with conjured images of Barry talking under a blanket of stars.

"Someone woke up on the right side of the bed this morning," Linda greets her as soon as she walks through the doors, handing her a large double shot Americano. "I'm guessing **..** you had a good night?"

Linda knows things, always has and always would -- Iris stopped trying to figure out how a long time ago -- and does her best to contain herself behind the lip of the cup. " _Shut up_ , Linda."

Twelve hours, that's how long she's had to think of a comeback. Linda hums, amused. "Try again, West." 


	4. madison park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “whatever your walk in life is, you pick what you want to be, then go ahead and be the best one,” CM Punk

‘turn on KDXM’ a text from Linda reads.

‘?’

Iris phone buzzes on the countertop seconds later, redirecting her attention from the coffee pot. ‘your bf is on [winkey face]’

He’s not her boyfriend, he doesn’t belong to her in any fashion -- _honestly_ \-- it’s just easier to let Linda have little victories.

“And we’re back here on 104.5 KDXM. I am your host James Olsen with the champ Barry Allen, say hello to the people Barry.”

“‘Sup.”

“It’s good to have you, personally, I just want to start off by saying I’m such a big fan of yours, man. You do incredible work in the ring and you’re pretty much the best in the industry right now.”

“I don’t know about that,” Iris hears him chuckle, restricted even through the soundwaves in what she can only deduce as forced, “thank you, but there’s so much talent in the pool right now **..** to give myself credit or acclaim when people like Sara Lance or Leonard Snart, Cisco Ramon and Oliver Queen are brought into the equation, it’s hard to pinpoint just one when so many others are revolutionising the business.”

“True, there’s a lot of talent to account for in several promotions--”

“Yeah--”

“-- but come on Barry **..** for those of you listening let me just take the time to explain who is sitting across from me right now. This man is a six-time PWI wrestler of the year, a multi-time champion and a two-time Division 1 series winner. I’ll remind our listeners no other man has accomplished that feat before and your accolades continue to grow. Are you still going to argue you’re not one of the best working today?”

“I can’t.”

The radio host groans loudly, eliciting pitched laughter from Barry. Iris sort of favors James in this situation.

“You’re a humble man, Barry Allen, better than any I’ve come across.”

“I didn’t get in this business to toot my own horn,” Barry says after a while. “I let my actions in the ring speak for me loud and clear. If you want to call me the best, call me the best but I can’t sit here and lie because there have been times I’ve had my ass handed to me and I’ve been pushed to my limit. The way I see it, anytime I lace up a pair of boots, it’s a learning experience and for any man or woman to claim themselves as the holy grail of professional wrestling **..** well, they have nothing left to learn.”

“Spoken like a class act.” James justifies. “So, what’s next for you? A re-match with Cisco Ramon is scheduled for your future, I’m sure, anything else?”

“Yeah, um, I’m actually getting ready to head overseas for a couple of shows--”

“Defending the title?”

“I don’t know, probably, we’ll have to see when I get over there but don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe.”

“Alright, well you heard the man for yourselves, we’re going to take a quick break and when we come back we’ll answer a few calls, dial 888-288-3888 or find me on Twitter at JOtheDJ and make sure to like us on Facebook at KDXM your Sports Now but until then enjoy some words from our sponsors.”

Iris inhales the steam from her mug, just shy of her lips as she ponders the pros and cons. “ **..** who am I kidding?”

An operator picks up after a third ring, stating rules and regulations of on-air guidelines when James picks up. “You’ve got James at KDXM with our special guest Top Force Wrestling Heavyweight Champion, Barry Allen, who’s calling?”

“This is Iris.”

“Yo’ Iris, what’s up? Where are you calling from?”

“Right here in Central City.”

“Lovely people in Central City,” James rolls on, “you got any questions for our champ today?”

“Just one,” Iris smiles into her mug, imagining Barry, who she’s sure recognizes her voice by now, sitting on the edge of his seat anticipating her next words, “will you go on a date with me?”

“Whoa -ho’-ho’, it looks like you’ve got an admirer on your hands, Barry.”

“ **..** it would seem that way.” there’s no mistaking the tone he’s taken, deep enough for heat to flood her entire system, as if he were standing right in front of her.

“By curiosity, where would we go on this date?”

Iris shrugs, neglecting the fact that he’s miles away and can’t see her. “Maybe **..** a date at Madison Park. I friend told me they were playing old films tonight at eight.”

“Sounds romantic.”

Iris grins into the phone. “It could be **..** ”

“Looks like we’ve got a love connection here on KDXM if Barry’s cheesing is anything to go by, alright Iris, make sure you don’t stand my boy up tonight, ‘aight?”

“I won’t.”

“Let the people know what your favorite station is.”

“104.5 KDXM.”

Linda doesn’t just call, she rushes over.

“I have neighbors. Stop banging on my door!” Iris concedes, opening her apartment to a hurricane of squeals and questions.

“First of all, calm down--”

“You’re going on a date!”

“Linda **..** ”

“You’re going on a date,” she practically sings into the living room, falling back onto the couch with a sigh, placing a hand over her heart. “This is the greatest news I’ve had all week.”

Iris shoves her legs out of the way, taking the vacant spot beside her. “You seriously need a hobby.”

Either Linda’s in too good a mood or she pretends not to hear because she jumps up and rushes to Iris' bedroom.

“What are you going to wear?” is lightning to the hurricane -- and her room: a tornado after Linda has finished with it.

Jeans are too subtle for a first date and fall is trailing behind summer quickly, so they settle on a dress and Iris’ favorite leather jacket which she is grateful for as a passing wind greets her at the gates of the park.

“I wasn’t sure if you were yanking my chain or not **..** I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this anxious.” Iris sizes him up, regarding how he twist his thumb in one hand before switching over to his index finger.

“You look really pretty.”

Iris hasn’t been called pretty since middle school -- beautiful. gorgeous. hot, yes -- yet the endearment swoops low in her belly, giving new life to butterflies that haven’t taken flight in over three or so years.

“Come on.”

She takes his hand, leading him to the open field where the movie is scheduled for the evening. Barry walks along beside her, hands stuffed deep in his pockets but close enough that they bump shoulders, and it’s nice, their silent hike through the winding paths decorated in directional signs, instructing them where to go.

Maybe -- if he asked nicely -- Iris could see herself willing to spend more time with him, _maybe_.

They find a spot further in the back against a tree after a stop at the concession stand just as the park is embedded in blue and Disney’s logo flashes across the screen. She smiles as he whistles along to the intro and sings with him when The Circle of Life starts.

“You sound amazing,” Barry leans over to whisper in her ear, warm breath leaving a pattern over her skin that has Iris mentally chiding herself.

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Do you always try this hard?”

Barry bites the corner of his bottom lip, the bruise healed some since she last saw him, and grins. “Am I trying too hard?”

“A little.”

Unfazed, Barry lifts both shoulders, shrugging and smiling so hard Iris is sure she can see all 32 teeth. “I’m pulling out all the stops.”

“‘part of your repertoire of moves?”

“You could say that.” Barry pops a kernel in his mouth, brazen and full of steam under her gaze. “Although, you asking me out **..** I gotta say, Miss West, it was quite the surprise.”

“Life’s too short to wait on people to make up their minds.”

The movie is background noise to the intensity provided yards away beneath a corktree. For one, Barry is impressed; whether she’s calling him out on his BS or not, he admires her straightforward-mean what you say- type attitude.

Secondly -- _what a woman_.

“I’m going to sweep you off your feet one of these days.”

She doesn’t argue, simply leaning in so that their shoulders touch and refocuses her attention on the screen. They sit together comfortably -- Iris even allows him to drape an arm over her shoulder -- to enjoy a classic in a venue full of people ranging in age.

“Favorite Disney character?”

Iris tilts her head up from his shoulder just enough to catch him glance down. The crowd is busy singing along with Timon and Pumbaa and Barry is mid-Hakuna Matata when the question is posed.

“Of all time?” Barry considers for a moment, “too hard, I can’t just pick one.”

“How many do you have?”

“How many do you?” Barry overturns, “no person has just one.” He studies her, catching the amused tip of her lips and the rise of her brow. “You’re weird.” In the best way, he adds to himself. His type of weird.

“Just answer the question.”

Sighing, Barry gives it his best shot. “Wood-Goof-Pumb-lan.” and it tickles her until she’s full blown laughing into his collar.

He pokes her side, egging her on because really making her laugh makes him feel good. Not in a way that strokes his ego but the way rain feels after a hot day or how waking up on Christmas used to feel as a kid.

“Are you done?”

Iris hiccups, wiping the brim of her eye and sits up, laughter morphed into light giggles as she tries to compose herself.

“Woody is Pixar.” she finally says, and that starts a debate throughout the rest of the movie on whether it’s Disney or not. Eventually, it garners a few glares from neighboring moviegoers and Barry can only think of one way to end the dispute.

It’s only supposed to last a second. A quick peck on the lips to quiet their conversation, nothing more - nothing less but his nerves must have amnesia. That’s the only way he can explain how he’s forgotten how soft her lips are against his. How warm she is pressed against him as a current of sparks race underneath his skin where she touches him.

The credits are rolling when they break apart, ceased by the crowd getting to their feet accompanied by rumblings of tired children and their parents. Through all of that, Barry sees her and only her.

“Will you go out with me?”

Iris snorts, eyelashes fluttering as she does so. “What do you think we’re doing now?”

He kisses her again, provoked by her smile, her spirit and really, just her everything. “Again, I mean.” He says against her lips, wet from his and his from hers. “Go out with me again?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything?” anything she wants.

“Admit Toy Story is Pixar.”

He pulls her close, smacking his lips to her cheek then her lips. “Fine.”

“Say it,” she says in between their shared laughter. “It doesn’t count if you don’t say it.”

“Toy Story is Pixar and the sky is blue.” His name is Barry Allen and he thinks he might be falling for her.


	5. tokyo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “wrestling is an art form. I don’t worry about those who don’t get it; I worry about satisfying those who do,” Paul E. Heyman

“It’s starting,” Iris yells from her spot on the couch. Linda maneuvers around the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, pizza box in hand and Wally in tow.

“What are we watching again?”

“Showcase something,” Linda shrugs, placing the food square in the middle of the coffee table. She takes a seat on the floor behind it and Wally falls in right next to her. Iris rests above them both, taking up the full length of the couch.

“Showcase of Champions,” Iris corrects.

“That’s what I said.”

Wally is the first to dig into the meat lovers pizza, taking a huge bite and asks, “Since when are you two fans of professional wrestling?”

“Since Iris’ boyfriend happens to be one.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” mingles with Wally’s “you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then what do you call it?” Linda peeks over her shoulder to where Iris grunts, burying her face in a throw pillow.

Neither Barry or Iris have decided, what exactly it is they’re doing. Last weekend he asked her on a date to the batting cages -- she whooped his butt and kissed him for his efforts.

Tuesday, they agree to meet up for a movie. It's terrible and a waste of twenty bucks but the popcorn is good and they add their own narration to make it better, so it's not a complete waste. He walks her home and kisses her goodbye outside of her apartment complex. 

Two days ago Iris invited him over. She hadn’t planned on Netflix and chill(ing) -- _it just happened_ \-- towards the end she can’t even remember what show they settled on. What she does remember, however, is trailing the pads of her fingers down the V of his hip, right where it dipped into the waistband of his jeans and him pulling back. “ **..** because I’m a gentleman and my mother raised me better,” he’d laughed then, even with his arousal obvious and her wanting _more_.

“I don’t want to take advantage.” he kissed her brow and she couldn’t fault him for that. Iris had never been with anyone she wasn’t committed to -- he didn’t know that -- but she appreciated his tolerance and ability to think with more than his penis.

Now he was off in Japan, competing.

“I don’t know,” she says facing the stares of her brother and best friend. “I don’t know what we are.”

“Does mom know 'bout him?”

“No.”

“Does dad?”

“ _No_.” Iris wacks him with a pillow, administering a fresh warning, “and you better not tell him.”

Joseph already has enough to say, she didn’t need another mark on his ‘things a respectable lady should do’ scoreboard.

“I won’t, _jesus_ woman. Chill!”

Wally puts distance between himself and Iris, scooting closer to Linda and picks up another slice.

“It was just a question.” dulls under theme music coming from the television, opening up to a bright stage where a man waits in the ring.

“Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to Kingdom’s 10 Showcase of Champi _ooo_ ns!”

The crowd’s commotion explodes through her television screen, and even though she’s not a fan, the buzz she feels is unmistakable.

“Introducing first **..** ”

Four matches later Wally and Linda are fully invested in the show, awed by death-defying spots and the consistent flow of sequences performed by both men and women.

“ **..** but it’s preplanned,” Iris is careful about her selection of words, stepping up to the batting plate. She doesn’t want to insult him or his profession but it is **..** well, to put it in layman's terms -- fake.

“So are a billion other things on tv but it doesn’t keep the general public from watching.” He takes a swing on his side of the cage and misses.

“That’s entertainment, though, wrestling is considered a sport, right? Sports aren’t predetermined, or at least they’re not supposed to be.”

“But we do the same things. We condition, we train, we practice. A lot of people like to give us flack because we go out there with set spots and a planned ending -- but the risk we take, the trust we have to be willing to give, all of that -- that’s real.”

‘Wish me luck’ back in the present her phone buzzes beside her. Laying face up on the cushion Barry’s name pops across her lock screen.

“And n _ooo_ w for our main event.”

Minutes later, Iris sits up, fully alert as Barry appears on screen. “Introducing first. Hailing from Central City, Missouri, weighing in at 185 pounds he is the Top Force Heavyweight Champi _ooo_ n of the W _oooo_ rld **..** The Flash Barry All _eeee_ n!”

Her eyes trek his every move, lingering as he poses in the middle of the ring, showing off his gold and black strap proudly.

“And his opponent. All the way from Midway City, Michigan weighing in at 235 pounds. He is one-half of Impact’s Tag Team Champi _ooo_ ns **..** Carter H _aaa_ ll!”

The match is fast, full of quick, stiff strikes commentated in Japanese that none of them can interpret but it heightens their excitement all the same.

When it’s over, Barry picks up the win by tap out and the referee raises his hand. The pizza is gone. Linda is telling Wally to pay up wages he owes and Iris is pretty sure she’s pulled the seam loose from her pillow to steady her pulse.

Wally stays behind after Linda wishes them both goodnight and helps her clean up what little mess they’ve made. She washes, he dries. The tv is still running, changed back to its regular channels with the nightly CCP news in the background.

“You’re coming home for Labor Day, right?” Wally asks, toweling off a cup before hanging it on the strainer.

“I dunno.”

Every year, for the past 26 years of Iris’ life, the West family have held the neighborhoods’ annual Labor Day cookout, ornamented by the same faces in the same place every single year.

Iris isn’t sure if she can handle another story of Mr. Ross’s war days.  

“You can bring your boyfriend,” Wally rushes to correct himself as Iris prepares to argue, “I mean that in a way **..** like a boy that is a friend.”

“Mhmm.” Iris bumps him with her hip.

“Just think about it.” he finishes up the last of the dishes, wipes his hands dry and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. “So **..**?”

“Don’t beat around the bush, Wally.” she hates that.

His shoulders drop, hands held palm out. “I’m just curious. After Eddie **..** ”

She swore off men, yada, yada, yada. It was going on two years now -- people change.

 “ **..** but you like this guy?”

She pulls back the tip of her lip, biting down before nodding twice. “Yeah, I do.”

“ **..** but you're not together?”

“Officially,” she shook her head. “No.”

“What are you then?”

Kissing buddies. Two people that spend time together. Friends? Iris isn’t clear on how to define their relationship.

He hasn’t asked for anything more serious, but neither has she.

“Consenting adults.” she finally settles on, laughing as Wally’s face scrunches up and he covers his ears.

He leaves a little while later after they finish an episode of Atlanta on demand. He wishes her good night, she tells him to text when he gets home safely, and he ask her once again to think about coming home for the holiday.

After her hair is tied, teeth brushed and her face is washed, Iris climbs under the comforters of her bed, mindlessly strolling through social media when the phone rings with a FaceTime request.

It’s past one in the morning but she’s instantly awake.

“I’m not bothering your beauty sleep, am I?”

“Nope,” the ‘p’ pops through the stretch of her smile. Iris turns over, holding the phone inches away.

“Nice scarf.”

She flips the phone face down, stifling a groan deep -- way deep -- down. Iris is unapologetic in the truest form, wearing her carefree black girl badge with pride and honor but still, there are aspects you have to ease others into. For instance, a hair bonnet.

“Hey, you still there?”

Flicking the bedside lamp on, Iris sits up, pressing her back to the headboard and removes her headwear. She runs her fingers through her mane a few times while he continues to call.

“I’m back.”

“ **..** everything okay?” his smile is too broad, giving way to the laugh lines and crinkles surrounding his eyes, making it impossible for her to ignore.

“Shut up.”

Barry laughs loud and sturdy, shoulders visibly shaking through the feed and Iris just wants to pull the covers over her face and disappear into the mattress.

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I swear.” Iris cocks a brow, “okay, but not in the sense you probably think. You’re cute.”

“‘cause that’s what every grown woman wants to hear.”

Barry blinks, long lashes on full display under the shiny camera light of his phone. “Trust me, Iris if you really knew how weak in the knees **..** ”

 _Fuuuuck,_  that is not okay. Where does he get the nerve?! _Goddangit._

The bedding can swallow her whole now. She’s ready. It doesn't. So she slides her body down, immersing herself in the sheets until just her eyes show, “stop.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t like compliments.”

She liked them fine enough -- just not to the point where it turned her brain into mush.

And he catches on because there’s a new glint in his eye that wasn’t there beforehand, gleaming, behind his frames and she needs to change the subject.

“Are you okay, you took a pretty nasty bump?” she knows wrestling terminology now, or at least a bare minimum. Stuff like: bumps, the differences between heels and faces, what a jobber does and selling.

“Which one?” he jokes.

Iris remembers it clear as day -- the way his neck snapped to the mat, how she cringed in reaction, holding her breath until he got back to his feet.

“Don’t worry about me, Iris.”

It’s not like she planned to worry this much or at all. “Just get back here in one piece, okay?”

A corner of his smile tugs up and he nods twice, an unsaid promise for him to keep. “I will. I miss you.”

“‘miss you too,” she mumbles, tiredly, the day taking its' toll on her body, opposing the small burst of energy she’d felt prior. Her body’s way of telling her that she needed to hear his voice in order to sleep.

“I should let you go.”

“No, stay,” she breaths, eyelids dropping no matter how hard she wills them to stay open. “Tell me about your day. Start **..** ” she yawns in the most unladylike way, and had she been fully aware would’ve notice the draw of Barry’s lip, urging his laughter down but she’s forgone, entering the first stages of sleep, “ **..** from the beginning **..** ”

She makes it ten minutes in before she’s snoring faintly into her pillow. The grasp she has on her phone loosens, letting it fall to the space next to her.

"Sweet dreams, Iris."


	6. apt.54b

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I encourage you to find your punk-rock, your lucha-libre, your pro-wrestling,” Lita

Barry's flight lands at exactly 10 pm central standard. It takes him twenty minutes to un-board and another ten to find his luggage. A quarter till, he greets her with a kiss.

“Thank you for picking me up.”

Iris nuzzles close to his warmth, slipping her arm around his waist as she does so. “You should really thank Linda, she’s the one that let me borrow her car.”

Barry hums at her temple, savoring the scent of ginger and oranges on her skin. Her lotion, she told him during a short break he used to return home where he shamelessly sniffed at her neck, complimenting her as he nipped at a particular spot that made her shudder.

“In due time,” he presses his lips to her hairline, “for now .. let's catch up?”

“Aren’t you tired?”

If Barry's being honest, he’s running on fumes both mentally and physically. Touring the UK and Japan in the span of two weeks has depleted his body of energy. He’s not even sure how he’s standing up. 

Maybe it has something to do with her smile; a bit of fresh air to his senses.

“All I know is that it feels good to be home.”

Fleetingly a thought passes of Iris feeling more like home than Central City ever has, but it’s gone before it has the chance to grow legs, dispersed by her easy kiss to his cheek and the grab of his hand, leading him away from the airport.

He only makes it an hour after she’s dropped him at his apartment. He convinces her to stay and they talk until his vision starts to blur and he’s out for the night.

“You're a drooler.”

Barry blinks, bringing focus into the room soaked in rays of sunlight and littered with phosphenes clouding his focus. He makes a noise crossbred between a groan and grunt and rolls over.

“I do not.”

“Ah .. the proof is in the pudding,” Iris points a sharp nail at his pillowcase where a small wet spot has materialized in the grey.

“I didn’t do it.”

More awake, Barry lifts his arms overhead in a full stretch that does nothing to mask his ugly yawn face.

“Then who did?”

Barry shrugs, his ‘I dunno’ muffled by the cushion and chuckles as she pokes his side. “Even if I did -- is it a turn-off?”

“.. maybe ..” her tone teases him.

Barry smirks, cocksure and determined. “I guess I have some work to do in changing your mind then.”

Before she can get another word out, Barry vanquishes what little space separats them by starting at her jaw and working his way up.

“I missed this.”

“Me too.”

Barry coaxes her tongue out from its’ hiding place, drinking in everything Iris has to offer as her body arches against his.

Trailing down, he fastens on the skin displayed by the low cut of her t-shirt and appreciates the little sigh it admits, establishing itself silently in the room until he finds that spot on the cusp of her neck that makes her eyes cross.

“.. w-we should stop.”

He trys when it becomes obvious where this is leading. 

Resistant to pull away, Iris traces the pulse beating the inseam of his sweatpants.

“Iris.”

His words hitch in his throat, stuck by her touch, her gaze and how inviting she feels. She shines through, cupping the back of his head and brings his lips back to hers, hyper aware of the hard press of his hips between her thighs and the heat spreading in the pit of her stomach, she bites back a curse.

This feels good. He feels good, runs on repeat, looping like a car on a race track -- and it’s been so long -- she deservs this.

“Iris.”

Barry moans when she tugs his earlobe between her teeth. “.. w-wait.”

He can hardly get the word out, feeling the weight and thickness of the four letters lodge in the back of his throat; held captive by her hands sinking below the band of his sweats to cup his bare backside, sucking the air straight out of his lungs. Barry pummels to the side and scoots away until he’s standing at the foot of the bed.

A beat passes long enough for him to catch his breath -- for him to list one president in the effort to remove  **..** _thoughts_ \-- not long enough for her phantom touch to disappear, however. He can still feel his nervous system ignite from her palm hot against his skin.

“Too much?”

“No. never. I - I’m .. you’re great, really..” haphazardly, Barry motions over her entirety, “I mean, well look at you.”

Iris sits up, lifts onto her haunches and crawls over to him, invading his personal space once again and plants a kiss directly over his collar.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“.. you don’t think we’re moving too fast? I don’t want to mess this up..” he lifts her chin, capturing it with his thumb and steadies her gaze with his. “I really like you, Iris. Like a lot. I don’t want this to be just some-thing that happened some time ago with some person.”

He’s rambling. He does that when he gets discombobulated. She makes him feel that way a good 90 percent of the time.

“Am I making any sense?”

“Are you asking me to be, like, your girlfriend..?”

“Is that okay?”

Iris beams, circling his wrist and brings him closer. “s’more than okay.”

They move as one after that. Becoming a rush of hands, tangled limbs harbored by greedy mouths eager to please and it’s good -- it’s so _fricking_ good.

Iris can’t see straight and Barry can hardly move.

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” Barry breathes dreamily, sated and fully content laying next to her. It prompts a grin from Iris who's already radiating in her after-glow, “you're beautiful. I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Not verbatim,” Iris trails a kiss from his jaw to his cheek back down to his ear, whispering, “but I get the picture.”

He groans, trembling at her touch leading from his hip bone then dipping south.

“You’re going to kill me.” 

Round two is just as mind blowing as the first, not as rushed -- more playful. They’re still learning as they go but Barry makes one hell of a student, catching on fast and brings Iris screaming.

“I need a minute,” she pants, voice raw.

And Barry understands, completely worn out; using the last bit of energy he has left to walk to the kitchen on shaky legs to retrieve a couple bottles of water.

“Do you ever think people are meant to come into your life?”

Iris considers only for a moment, “.. what, like soul mates?”

Barry pulls her close, spooning her from behind.

“I don’t know ..”

“Then what are you trying to say?”

This time, he shrugs.

“What do you know?”

Not much, if anything, really, but if he has to narrow it down to just one thing: Iris would be included. “Right now **..** I’m just extremely happy you decided to walk into my life that night on the train.”

He falls asleep shortly after, leaving Iris alone for the first time since she eased him awake. Turning in his arms, Iris outlines his sleeping features, relaxed and subdued from worry, dressed in faded scars -- one just on the curve of his jaw, another to the right of his left eye centered by a crooked nose he’s broken more than a dozen times.

Blemishes that don’t transcend to the man behind them. This goofy -- corny -- cheeseball with a heart three times the size when compared to average men, shouldered by so much passion and strength that it's infectious. 

And somehow, someway he's managed to become this big part of her life and now that Iris has him, she plans on keeping him.

“I’m happy too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wasn't sure how I wanted to complete this .. but I think I did meh..?? -- I don't know -- I just didn't want to drag it out, so I hope it's okay. thank you all for reading, reviewing and leaving kudos!


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